istened to, enriched with the simile of the
ocean of life. Here they were, come home to roost. He had fallen asleep,
ineffectual sailor that he was, and a thief out of the cloudy deep had
stolen oar and sail and compass, leaving him adrift amid the riding of
the waves.

'Are they worth, do you think, quite a penny?' suddenly inquired a quiet
voice in the silence. He looked up into the almost colourless face, into
the grey eyes beneath their clear narrow brows.

'I was thinking,' he said, 'what a curious thing life is, and
wondering--'

'The first half is well worth the penny--its originality! I can't afford
twopence. So you must GIVE me what you were wondering.'

Lawford gazed rather blankly across the twilight fields. 'I was
wondering,' he said with an oddly naive candour, 'how long it took one
to sink.'

'They say, you know,' Grisel replied solemnly, 'drowned sailors float
midway, suffering their sea change; purgatory. But what a splendid
pennyworth. All pure philosophy!'

'"Philosophy!"' said Lawford; 'I am a perfect fool. Has your brother
told you about me?'

She glanced at him quickly. 'We had a talk.'

'Then you do know--?' He stopped dead, and turned to her. 'You really
realise it, looking at me now?'

'I realise,' she said gravely, 'that you look even a little more pale
and haggard than when I saw you first the other night. We both, my
brother and I, you know, thought for certain you'd come yesterday.
In fact, I went into the Widderstone in the evening to look for you,
knowing your nocturnal habits....' She glanced again at him with a kind
of shy anxiety.

'Why--why is your brother so--why does he let me bore him so horribly?'

'Does he? He's tremendously interested; but then, he's pretty easily
interested when he's interested at all. If he can possibly twist
anything into the slightest show of a mystery, he will. But, of course,
you won't, you can't, take all he says seriously. The tiniest pinch of
salt, you know. He's an absolute fanatic at talking in the air. Besides,
it doesn't really matter much.'

'In the air?'

'I mean if once a theory gets into his head--the more far-fetched,
so long as it's original, the better--it flowers out into a positive
miracle of incredibilities. And of course you can rout out evidence for
anything under the sun from his dingy old folios. Why did he lend you
that PARTICULAR book?'

'Didn't he tell you that, then?'

'He said it was Sabathier.' She seemed to th